Where the shadows of sin never rested;
And the angels were waiting to hear
The prayer that ascends with "Our Father",
And keeps hearts and the heavens so near.

And all the day long -- can you blame me?
"Hail Mary", "Our Father", I said;
And I think that the Christ and His Mother
Were glad of the way that I prayed.

And I think that the great, bright Archangel
Was listening all the day long
For the echo of every "Hail Mary"
That soared thro' the skies like a song,

From the hearts of the true and the faithful,
In accents of joy or of woe,
Who kissed in their faith and their fervor
The Festival's surplice of snow.

I listened, and each passing minute,
I heard in the lands far away
"Hail Mary", "Our Father", and near me
I heard all who knelt down to pray.

Pray the same as I prayed, and the angel,
And the same as the Christ of our love --
"Our Father", "Hail Mary", "Our Father" --
Winging just the same sweet flight above.